


Merc Vs Metal: Masters of Head

by RodimusDoctor



Series: Merc Vs Metal [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers: Age of Extinction - Fandom
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Headmasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 13:09:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8145203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RodimusDoctor/pseuds/RodimusDoctor
Summary: Deadpool and Weasel mess around with cybertronian body parts in a secret lab Weasel set up in Nevada. They have four Autobot prisoners - Sideswipe, Slash, Skids, and a mystery bot -  who have been reduced to just their heads on a table attached to one spark core. Weasel has nearly finished a cybertronian-based project, which Deadpool is impatient to try out.
Meanwhile, Skids' twin Mudflap is in the 'hood, searching for his missing brother. Are Weasel and Deadpool looking at an ass-whoopin'? Or will Weasel's project give the Merc with a Mouth a fighting chance?





	

**Author's Note:**

> So here's the next chapter in my Transformers/Deadpool crossover! Merc vs Metal: Masters of Head is a direct sequel to Sideswipe Gets ‘Pooled. I introduce the Headmaster concept into the Bayverse, courtesy of Weasel (Deadpool’s ‘pal’). Weasel has worked with robotics in Marvel Comics, so it didn’t seem too much of a stretch to suggest he might experiment with Cybertronian robotics and their application.
> 
> The story also gave me the opportunity to detail the fate of the Twins, Skids and Mudflap. Both were absent from the movie Dark of the Moon, even though they both appeared (and died at the hands of Sentinel Prime) in the novel and comic adaptations. Since the movies are canon, I decided the Twins’ fates were still up in the air and therefore fair game for fanfic!

“You betrayed me,” said Sideswipe. “I trusted you, and you betrayed me.”

Deadpool and Weasel looked up from the mess of cybertronian parts spread out on the workshop floor and glanced at the Table of Head. Weasel had wanted to call it the Head Table, or at least the Table of Heads, given the plural nature of the table’s contents. Deadpool, however, had insisted on Table of Head.

“Because if they want to live,” he’d explained, “that’s what they’re gonna do for me.” Then he’d giggled like the immature little boy that he was.

There were four cybertronian heads on top of the Table of Head, each drawing power from a single spark chamber on the floor beneath them. Three of them had spoken frequently of their displeasure with the situation, but this was the first time that Sideswipe, former Autobot warrior, had added his own voice to the mix.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Deadpool replied. “I was there. And I’d originally gone there to kill you, which should have raised a lot of red flags about my trustworthiness. So who really lied to whom?”

“Um... you did,” Weasel pointed out. “To him.”

“Yeah, but my point is,” Deadpool said, “he should’ve known better than to trust a guy like me.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Weasel said, and he returned his attention to his work.

“Yeah, that’s... hey! Was that a dig?”

“No,” Weasel lied.

“You have no honour,” said Slash, former Dinobot and Legendary Knight, and the head next to Sideswipe on the table.

“What would you know about honour?” said Sideswipe.

“Honour doesn’t pay,” Deadpool told them. “But betraying and nabbing a sweet alien mech is gonna pay great! Won’t it?” he added, nudging Weasel with his foot. “How soon before I get to play?”

“Well, I’m working with an alien technology here...”

“Which you’ve had access to ever since you found bobble-head, there,” Deadpool pointed at the third head on the table, a freakish mangle of googly-eyes and floppy metal ears. And a gold tooth. Why, Deadpool had wondered, does a robot need teeth? Let alone gold ones?

The fourth head was blue, blocky yet aerodynamic, and had a fin-type horn-thingie on top. It had proved the most annoying by far - Deadpool had shot him in the mouth every time his vocal processor repaired itself. When Weasel had had enough of that, he went and welded a metal plate over the mouth in question. Problem solved.

“Hey! The name’s Skids,” the freakish mangle said. “And when my twin brother finds out where I am, he’s gonna come for me and kick all yo’ asses!”

“Uh huh,” Weasel muttered. “Look, Wade, it’s a process, okay? But the prototype just needs some fine-tuning at this point. It’ll be ready real soon.”

“Ain’t gonna be soon enough, bitches,” Skids said. “My bro Mudflap’s gonna bust a dozen caps in yo’ butt. An’ that’s just for starters! Tell ‘em, Sideswipe. Tell ‘em how bad a beatdown they gonna get.”

“Uh... yeah,” Sideswipe said without much enthusiasm. “A lot of caps. Busted ones.”

“Uh huh,” Deadpool said, crossing his arms. “Well, if he’s your twin, and Weasel here managed to bag you on his own, then I’m not too worried.”

“Hey!” Weasel looked up from his work again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Shut up and get it done,” Deadpool said, and he started to walk away. “Tell me when it’s ready. I’ve got important stuff to do. Anyone seen my stuffed unicorn?”

 

Tracking his twin brother should have been easy, but Mudflap had managed to get himself lost half a dozen times. Still, he felt like he was closing in now. He puttered along Nevada’s ‘Alien Highway’, passing the turnoff to the legendary (by human standards) Area 51, following a feeling - a link, a bond - he couldn’t quite explain.

Mudflap sensed where his spark-twin was. Simple as that. But try getting anyone else to understand.

Mudflap had taken on a new form - a compact Mini, smaller than his previous form due to the mass he’d lost during the Sentinel Prime incident. What a clusterfuck that had been! Some thought he and his brother had died that day. Others didn’t think they’d been there at all. The truth was somewhere in-between. They’d survived, and that was all that mattered.

Except that now the Autobots had scattered. The humans, whose world the Autobots had saved three times, had proven less than grateful. N.E.S.T. had been disbanded, and the human governments had turned on the Autobots. Mudflap looked up and saw he was passing yet another of those Remember Chicago billboards. Report Alien Activity, it said.

“I’ve got your alien activity right here, assholes!” he said, effecting a partial transformation so he could give the sign the middle finger. One good thing humans had taught the Cybertronian race - a wide range of rude words and gestures!

Mudflap kept driving. This was the right way to Skids, he was sure of it.

Well, mostly.

 

Deadpool sat on the Table of Head, cuddling Slash’s head in his lap like a kitten.

“Who’s a good little robo?” he said, scratching under Slash’s chin. “Who’s a good boy? Not you, you little asshole. You’re a bad robo! Bad robo!”

“I will kill you,” Slash said for the upteenth time. “I swear on my spark.”

“Uh huh. And where is your spark, exactly?” Deadpool asked him. “Is it on the table?” He held Slash up and pointed his face at the table’s surface. “Is it on the floor?” He held Slash out over the floor. “Is it under the table? No, it isn’t! It’s over there,” he turned Slash to face the area where Weasel was working. “It’s going to power something really awesome. You are attached to Sideswipe’s spark, li’l dino. You don’t even have a spark to swear on!”

“You is sooo annoying,” said Skids.

“Look who’s talking,” Sideswipe muttered under his robotic breath. So to speak.

“Well, I’m bored,” Deadpool dropped Slash on top of Sideswipe. “Between waiting for numbnuts over there to finish the thing...”

“Heard that,” Weasel said.

“Supposed to!” Deadpool shot back. “And waiting for my best buddy Attinger to call with another job whacking one of you losers, to frikkin’ waiting for this brother of yours to show up! There’s been a lot of hype, man. I’m starting to wonder if this Mudlap even exists.”

“It’s MudFLAP!” Skids said.

“It’s gonna be Wade’s Bitch when I’m through with him,” Deadpool picked up Skids’ head and tossed him up and down like a volleyball.

“Yo ass is grass!” Skids said. “An’ my twin brother...”

“Transforms into a lawnmower?” Deadpool finished for him. “Actually, that would be kind of cool. As long as he’s not a lawnmower man. God, that movie sucked! And they made a sequel with the Max Headroom guy! What the living fuck?”

“Do you have any idea,” Slash asked Sideswipe, “what he’s talking about?”

“Not a clue,” the Autobot replied.

“Hey, Wade, come over here.” Weasel stood, and gestured at his work. “I think you’re gonna like it.”

Deadpool, who’d just tossed Skids in the air again, leapt off the table and let the Autobot head fall. Skids swung on the cable attaching his head to the spark, and smacked the underside of the table before swinging back.

“It’s finished?” the merc said.

“Mostly,” Weasel said. “Still a few kinks to work out, but basically it’s ready. Check this out.” He picked up a helmet that had been modelled after Deadpool’s mask. “This is the control helmet. It allows you to control the mech.”

On the floor, a cobbled-together pile of cybertronian parts raised itself up and stood.

“That’s the mech?” Deadpool said. “What a piece of junk!”

“Think so, Luke Skywalker?” Weasel said, his voice robotically modulated by the helmet. “Check what this Falcon can do.”

A blue beam projected from the roughly-humanoid mech and bathed Deadpool in its glow. A second later, the mech began to flow and change. It became red. Twin swords in sheaths grew out of its back. Holsters formed at the sides of its hips.

“It’s a robot... me!” the merc said. “Cool. Um...”

“You’re wondering where the head is, right?” Weasel said. “Look over there.”

Deadpool looked. A blocky suit of armour-type dealio stood off to the mech’s right side. It was also red. And missing a head.

“Watch!” Weasel said, and the suit of armour transformed into a metal head sculpted and painted to look like Deadpool’s mask.

“You wear the armour,” Weasel said, removing his helmet, “and you put this baby on to control it. And then you become the head of the mech! A kind of... head-master.”

“A master of head?” Deadpool said, and giggled.

“Head-Master,” Weasel told him. “Patent pending. The army’s gonna want a million of...”

Claxons suddenly claxed, and the security terminal came to life with angry-looking red-flashing lights.

“The perimeter’s been breached!” Weasel said.

“Time for that ass-whoopin’, bitches!” said Skids.

 

“He’s here,” Mudflap said with certainty as he drove through the parking lot of what appeared to be an abandoned bowling alley and drive-in cinema. It was a large lot, with several cars in various states of disrepair. Skids’ spark signal came from the main building, so Mudflap aimed straight for it.

And discovered that the discarded cars weren’t really cars at all. Each went through a simple transformation into a weapon turret.

“Welcoming committee, huh?” Mudflap said, and he transformed and leapt to avoid the first volley of ordnance. “Have to do better than that!”

And he took out three of the turrets in quick succession.

“That’s all ya got, pussies?”

 

“That’s all I’ve got!” Weasel cried, looking at the security monitors and watching helplessly. “I can’t stop him.”

“But maybe I can,” Deadpool said. Weasel turned around to see the merc climbing into the headmaster armour. “Fire this thing up.”

“Wade, I don’t know if you wanna do that,” Weasel said, hurrying over to his friend. “It’s... there’s still a ton of stuff that... It’s not ready yet!”

“You got another plan?” Deadpool felt the armour close around him, sealing him in. “No, you don’t. It’s this, or ugly-face’s less-ugly brother...”

“Hey!”

“...busts your whole operation!”

“I know,” Weasel reluctantly picked up the control helmet. “It’s just...”

“Just do it!” Deadpool said. “Now or never, buddy.”

“Okay, Wade,” Weasel handed him the helmet. “Just brace yourself.”

“For what?” Deadpool stuffed the helmet on his head.

“It’s just a good thing that you’re... well, you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Deadpool asked, and he gave the armour the mental command to transform.

Then he screamed. The suit of armour reconfigured itself into head mode, shifting and folding in ways no human body was meant to contort. Weasel winced at the wet snapping and crunching of Wade Wilson’s bones accompanying the wails of agony. At last the process stopped, the armour once again looking like Deadpool’s mask. The only difference was that now blood was oozing out of everywhere.

Good thing it’s red, Weasel thought.

“That...” the transformed Deadpool said, “really sucked.”

“Sorry!” his friend replied, smiling sheepishly.

There were a series of loud explosions, very close to the east wall. Then the wall exploded, showering debris all around the room.

“What time is it?” Skids asked.

“Ass-clobberin’ time!” Mudflap replied, as he stood proudly in the large hole he’d created.

“You got that right,” Deadpool said, and he commanded the mech body to pick him up and attach him to its neck. “Buddy, you wouldn’t believe how pissed off I am right now.”

“I know how dead you’re gonna be!” Mudflap replied, and shot him. MechaDeadpool flew backward with a smoking hole in his chest, crashing through some very expensive equipment before coming to rest in a pile of cybertronian body parts.

“Man,” Weasel said, “did I ever back the wrong horse.”

Mudflap stomped over to him and poked him in the chest hard enough to knock Weasel backwards to the floor.

“You,” the Autobot said, “got some ‘splainin’ to do.”

“You tell him, bro!” Skids added.

“Oh, why don’t you quit while you is a head?” Mudflap replied.

“Oh, that’s real funny,” said Skids. “You a regular freakin’ John Oliver...”

“Skids! Mudflap! Focus,” said Sideswipe. “Do not underestimate these humans.”

“What? This one’s down,” he indicated Weasel, “and the big red one’s dead.”

“I guarantee you,” Sideswipe told him, “he is not.”

Mudflap turned to see that MechaDeadpool was indeed standing back up. And, the wound in his chest was rapidly healing.

“Oh no you di’nt!” Mudflap raised his blaster and fired again. This time, however, Deadpool was ready for him. MechaDeadpool leapt up and somersaulted over the plasma blast, then came down with a kick to Mudflap’s chest that sent the diminutive Autobot tumbling backward.

“Oh, it’s on!” the MechaMerc mouthed, drawing both swords and advancing on his foe.

Mudflap bounced back and went on the offensive, coming in low and slamming both fists into MechaDeadpool’s midsection. The MechaMerc let out a mechanical grunt and took a step back, but was otherwise unharmed.

Curious, Deadpool let Mudflap follow up with a kick to his mech’s sternum. The blow did minimal structural damage, and caused him no pain. At least, no more pain than he was already in.  
And the damage was already repairing. Somehow the mech had taken on his healing factor! Advantage - Wilson.

Mudflap seemed to understand that hand-to-hand wasn’t going to work. He took a step back and raised his cannon, and might have turned the tables if MechaDeadpool’s swords hadn’t lopped half his arm off. The Autobot took another step back, staring in shock at his stump.

“Hey! You did not just...” Mudflap would have finished his exclamation of outrage, but he had to move to avoid another sword strike. He almost succeeded; MechaDeadpool shattered one of the headlights on his chest.

“Ow!” Mudflap said, and he backed away while searching for a weapon. He found one in the form of a support pillar, but he wasn’t strong enough to pull it free from the floor and ceiling with only one arm.

“Run, Mudflap! Get help,” Sideswipe suggested.

“Don’t wimp out on me, bro,” Skids countered. “Take that robo-wannabe out!”

“Accept death with honour,” Slash put in.

The fourth head said nothing.

Weasel, who’d chosen to cower under the Table of Head, also remained silent.

Mudflap ignored all of them and kept yanking on the pole.

“Here, let me help,” Deadpool said, and with two swipes of his sword the pole was free.

“Why’d ya do that?” Mudflap said, wielding the pole and trying to look badass with it.

“Figured I’d give you a hand,” Deadpool said, then snickered. “Heh, I wasn’t even trying to make a joke there! Anyway, I’m giving you a chance, before I take that pole and shove it up your ass!”

“I’m a robot!” Mudflap pointed out. “I ain’t got no ass.”

“You will,” Deadpool told him.

Then he charged MechaDeadpool at Mudflap, slammed into the Autobot, and together they crashed through the southernmost wall.

 

“What do you think?” Deadpool asked Weasel less than an hour later. He was still clad in the headmaster armour, but his arms and legs had healed and were back in their proper place.

“I think it’s art,” Weasel replied. He stood next to his merc friend, admiring the scene before them.

Mudflap had fought hard with only one arm, but it hadn’t been nearly enough. Deadpool had the moves, and MechaDeadpool had had the muscle. And height.

Now, the diminutive Autobot’s head sat on the Table of Head. The rest of him lay on his front on the floor in front of that table, knees bent and rump raised upward like a cat looking to get lucky. Rammed into that rump and pointing skyward was the pole Mudflap had fought with.

As promised.

“See that?” Skids said. “That’s what you get for bein’ a wimp, bro.”

“Oh yeah?” said Mudflap. “Well you’re on the same table here with me, so what does that say about you?”

“Hey, they caught me by surprise! I wasn’t ready. It was cheating!”

“Shut up!” Deadpool said, and he turned and shot them both in their mouths.

“You should have gone for help,” Sideswipe told the temporarily-mute Mudflap. “If you’d contacted Prime, he could have come and freed us.”

“He fought like a warrior,” Slash said. “There is no shame in defeat by a more powerful opponent.”

“You really think he fought well?” Sideswipe asked.

Slash opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

“That’s what I thought,” Sideswipe muttered.

“Knock it off, you guys!” Weasel turned to face the Table of Head. “You want my buddy Wade here to shoot you, too? Why can’t you be quiet like blue guy, there?” He pointed at the last head on the table, who still had a metal strip over his mouth. It looked loose, however; Weasel figured he’d have to reattach it soon.

Just then, the theme from the TV show Frasier trilled.

“My phone!” Deadpool turned and walked quickly to the table where he’d left the cellular device in question. “It’s the call I’ve been waiting for.”

“How do you know?” Weasel asked him.

“Special ringtone,” Deadpool said, snatching up the phone and answering it. “Yes, Doctor Crane?”

“Attinger!” snapped the man on the other end of the line. “My name is Attinger. Now listen up, I have an assignment for you. We have received a positive sighting of Optimus Prime in Mexico City...”

“Optimusprime?” shouted the fifth head, the metal plate flying off his face. “Heshereheshereonthisplanet?”

“Blurr?” said Sideswipe, recognizing the voice.

“Great!” Weasel said, and he went to pick up the metal plate. “Where’s my welding torch?”

“What was all that?” Attinger barked as Deadpool walked away from the freaking-out head. “Is this a secure line?”

“Oh, completely!” Deadpool said. “So, the Prime, huh? You want me to take him out? Because that’s gonna cost you...”

Sideswipe watched as Deadpool left his field of vision. At the end of the table, Blurr continued to spout words while Weasel approached with his welder.

They’ve found Optimus Prime, he thought. I have to find a way to escape, or at least send a signal to warn him.

Because if Deadpool faced off with Optimus Prime, the world would feel very much like the impaled robotic body on the floor of the lab before him. 

Like a pole had been shoved up its ass.

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> To Be Continued in:
> 
> Merc Vs. Metal: Deadpool Gets Primed


End file.
